


Dancing On Our Own

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 22:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: Illya asks Napoleon a favour and Napoleon thinks he’ll never have what he wants. Illya.





	Dancing On Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic based on a tumblr prompt. “Hey! I love your fics! Any chance you’re taking requests? Dancing on my own by Callum Scott always gives my Napollya feels and was hoping you’d be willing to listen to it/see if it inspired you.”

Napoleon stands in front of the long mirror in his room. With one arm outstretched, the other bent in front of his waist, he starts to move, steps reminiscent of dancing with a partner. _One, two, three_ , he mutters, moving to the silent beat he has memorised by heart. He repeats this over and over, and for a moment Napoleon feels like he is floating around the floor. Floating with Illya in his head. If only he could tell Illya this, how the giant Russian is ingrained in his soul, his being. His very bones. 

If only Illya knows. 

For the past week Napoleon has been teaching Illya how to waltz. Despite it being fit for formal occasions, the waltz is also one of the easiest dance steps to learn and to execute, so when Napoleon had suggested it, Illya had agreed. Everyday after work, he would stop by at Napoleon’s place and they would go through the steps with Napoleon leading the way. Though he resents it, Napoleon has learned to push aside his own feelings for the man just because he wants to see Illya happy.

When Illya had come to Napoleon for help, he had wanted to shun Illya at first. What he feared had become real. Illya’s going to make his move on Gaby. _Finally_ , Napoleon had thought to himself. He had never pushed Illya to reveal more than necessary, so he simply complied to the man’s wishes then, ignoring the flurry of aches and the gut wrenching pain he had felt at the time. He could not say no to Illya. Illya’s reddened cheeks and his curiously shy smile; the way he had approached Napoleon, it had somehow softened the blow Napoleon had felt inside. And by agreeing to teach him how to dance, Napoleon figured it would be a way for him to get closer to Illya even though he knew in the end he wouldn’t achieve what he really wanted. 

As Napoleon continues to move with his eyes closed, he imagines how Illya would take Gaby’s hands in his. He imagines how Illya’s arm would circle her waist. They would start off cautious, all calculating steps between them, but soon their dance will start to flow naturally and before long Illya would be spinning Gaby around, all elegant moves, with whatever doubt between them gone. Admittedly, they are pretty perfect for each other. Napoleon has entertained the idea of their partners together for some time. And now, it is really happening.

If they are happy then Napoleon will be happy. 

He will have to. For their sake. 

“Do you always dance alone, Cowboy?”

Startled upon hearing Illya’s voice, Napoleon stops at once and turns. He sees Illya leaning against the door, a little smile adorning his lips. How long he has been standing there, Napoleon has no idea. He takes in a breath and tries to shake off the slight tremor he is feeling. Illya doesn’t know what Napoleon has been thinking. He is not a mind reader. There is no way he could tell Napoleon’s mind has been bombarded by images of his partners together. 

“I think both you and I know that I work better alone.”

“If working is equivalent to dancing then maybe you are not so bad after all.”

Napoleon tries to come up with a witty comeback. This is no time for him to be demure. He desperately wants to say something but his words are lodged in his throat. Then, as seconds tick by with silence between them, Napoleon remembers something.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Gaby?”

Yes, Illya’s big night with Gaby is tonight. He is supposed to be dining in a posh restaurant somewhere before bringing her back to his apartment. And after that their dance is supposed to start. Napoleon sees Illya kissing Gaby by the end of it while he watches them from a darkened corner like a broken hearted fool. 

_So far away, but still so near. The lights come up, the music dies, but you don’t see me standing here. Watching you. Wishing it’s me with you and not her._

Maybe Napoleon is out of line to want someone he can never have.

“Cowboy.”

Illya’s voice pulls him out of his reverie again. Napoleon shakes his head. 

“Sorry, why are you here again?”

“I never said I was going out with Gaby.”

“But you wanted me to teach you to dance. You said it was for Gaby. You were going to take her out. And then you were going to dance with her in your apartment. You told me this.”

The vision of Illya and Gaby together instantly diminishes in Napoleon’s head. Has he made a mistake? Has he read the entire thing wrong? No, it’s impossible.

“I don’t get it,” Napoleon asks again, confused.

Illya closes the door then moves deeper into the room. With every step that he takes, Napoleon’s heart starts to race faster, falling into a rhythm akin a man who’s run a marathon. 

“Peril?”

Illya stops just as he’s about to get real close. 

“It was Gaby’s idea.”

Napoleon is dumbfounded. “What?”

“I never told you this but it is you. Always been you. You only assume it is for Gaby. You put that idea in your own head. So Gaby asked me to play along with it.”

Napoleon gasps for breath. He slowly straightens, stares at Illya’s eyes unblinking, with the taller man staring right back at him.

“You conspired with her?”

Illya shrugs. “Stupid I know. But I didn’t know any other way. Don’t know any other way to make us happen.”

Napoleon’s world stops upon hearing Illya’s words. It’s too good to be true. How could this be? What has he done to deserve something as good as this? When Illya touches his hand, and entwines their fingers together, Napoleon almost flinched at his touch. But Illya grips his hand tight, doesn’t let him get away. He takes another step forward, like the dance Napoleon has taught him, but with a bit of hesitance. A little bit of fear. 

“I am not really sure if you want this too, but I will regret it if I did not try. If I did not ask.”

“But you never asked me “ Napoleon croaks.

“I am asking you now.”

Napoleon’s fingers curl around Illya’s. Only then he realises how shaky they are. A desperate whine escapes Napoleon's lips. He has wanted Illya ever since he’s met the man, maybe it is something Napoleon would never admit readily, but it is the truth. And now Illya has admitted to something Napoleon never imagined could be true. 

“So, you will dance with me?” Illya asks, even as they start to tremble in each other’s arms. Napoleon doesn’t say anything, suddenly not trusting himself to utter a word, fearing he’s going to spoil everything. Braving himself for the umpteenth time that night, Illya places a finger underneath Napoleon’s chin and tilts his head, waiting for an answer and Napoleon finally nods. 

“Okay.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Illya leans in and kisses Napoleon, a gentle brush of their lips together but the sensation enough to shock Napoleon to the core. Soon, he is melting in Illya’s hold, his previously stiff body going slack. Their kiss grows in intensity and when they finally part for breath minutes later, Illya leans their foreheads together, arms still around Napoleon’s waist keeping his partner close against him.

“I have to warn you, Cowboy, I am terrible at dancing, not as good as you,” he adds teasingly, and then smiles when Napoleon mutters ‘ _it doesn’t matter’_ because he doesn’t have to dance on his own any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics in this fic borrowed from Callum Scott’s Dancing On My Own. All mistakes in this fic are mine.


End file.
